I made it back to the Open Full Moon this Friday. I'd put a blurb in the newsletter that I would be there after my surgery, and a few extra folk came out to see me. I was told repeatedly I looked great, and I did feel pretty good.
Anyway, at the beginning of the meeting, before the presenters for the month do their ritual, Catherine (the VP of the church of which I'm president) and I make general welcome announcements and the like. This time, I started out by telling people that I was back, and better, and still looked pretty much the same, except that part of me was detachable! I then pulled my fiberfill prosthesis out, and plopped it in my lap (I was in my wheelchair.) The whole room cracked up, and it definitely eased the tension. I couldn't easily stuff it back in while in the center, so I kept it on my lap as we made our usual announcements. When we asked for donations, Mari (dear friend of the family and former covenmate) ran up and tucked her donation in the empty bra pocket.
In retaliation, while going round the circle and asking everyone if they had announcements, I plopped the fake breast in her lap. (This one is a lightweight, fiberfilled one for just post-surgery, before I get the heavier prosthesis actually reasonably fit to me.) She picked it up, and announced it had rocks in it. I said yes, that way it doesn't float up to my neck. She suggested we put a squeaker in the fiber. Hubby likes the idea -- we may well do it for MileHiCon. I retrieved my breast and finished the walk round the circle.
Right at the end, Hearthstone's treasurer and her husband were sitting, and she started telling me to give the breast to her husband. I took one look at him, and the poor man was horrified! So I said that I'd known Mari for a lot of years and that I didn't think I knew her husband well enough to hand him my breast. The whole thing was done in silly and good-humored fashion, and as a result, no one treated me like I was either fragile or contagious, which was a major relief. I don't fancy being treated as either.
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